


I'll be the wolf

by WildlyJourneyed



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Voyeurism, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildlyJourneyed/pseuds/WildlyJourneyed
Summary: “Help me out?”  He asks, and unable to do anything else Emil just nods.  They’re only barely hidden from the main room, and the chatter of the others is a dim white noise.  Asphodel leans back against the wall and drags Emil with him so that their chests pressed together.  Emil stares down at him, questioning, but Asphodel is looking somewhere beyond and thingsclick.
Relationships: Emil De Luca/Asphodel Sharpe, Rowan Donovan/Asphodel Sharpe
Kudos: 11





	I'll be the wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeviousMachinations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviousMachinations/gifts).



It’s half past ten when Emil finally drags himself away from the niceties of the more corporate colleagues of the party. It’s one of their quarterly events where the bigwigs show up to play nice and trade information, and while it serves its purpose he’s never been the type to enjoy this kind of atmosphere. Too much doublespeak, and too many people trying to lock him into favors. He hasn’t seen Rowan in an hour, so when Emil spots Asphodel by himself he can’t help but wander over to check in. Asp is looking away from him, idly playing with his hair, and he blinks up at Emil when the man presses a hand to his lower back.

“Asphodel...are you alright?” That wasn’t the question he’d intended to ask, but he can feel the blond trembling under his palm and his face is flushed. Emil starts to usher him to a side hall and Asp stumbles a little. For someone who doesn’t drink much and is an expert in heels, this isn’t normal behavior. Emil glances around, trying to find Rowan, but Asphodel surprises him by gripping the lapel of his jacket and tugging.

“Help me out?” He asks, and unable to do anything else Emil just nods. They’re only barely hidden from the main room, and the chatter of the others is a dim white noise. Asphodel leans back against the wall and drags Emil with him so that their chests pressed together. Emil stares down at him, questioning, but Asphodel is looking somewhere beyond and things _click_.

“Rowan’s watching.” He sighs out, and Asphodel nods. He’s wearing a shade of red lipstick that’s slightly darker than the short dress he’s wearing, and even in heels Asp is five inches shorter. He looks good, he always does, but there’s still something off about the way he’s shivering. Emil doesn’t look over his shoulder, knowing that whatever game Rowan’s involved him in is held firmly in Asphodel’s manicured hands now.

“You said you’d help me.” Brown eyes peer out from under thick eyelashes, and Emil isn’t really into the feminization thing like Rowan is but _fuck_ if Asp isn’t pretty. He watches the blond worry at his lower lip with his teeth, and then he suddenly jolts with a soft gasp. Asp’s gaze flickers to the left of Emil’s shoulder again, and another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

He laughs low in his throat and cups Asp’s jaw, his hand huge against that delicate chin. “Daring of him, making you wear a vibrator to work.” Because they are, technically, at work. Rowan’s never had a problem showing off his boy in the office, but this is different. A little more dangerous. No wonder Rowan’s pulled him into this game. Asphodel’s already red cheeks go darker and he leans into the touch. “Will you sleep with anyone he tells you to?”

“Only you,” Asp admits, and whether or not that’s because Rowan would only ever choose Emil or if Asp would only agree to Emil doesn’t matter. It’s an ego boost all the same, and an invitation. Emil chooses to play the game.

The skirt of the dress hits Asp mid thigh and Emil drags his free hand up all that bared skin, his fingers just under the hem. He waits, watching Asphodel shake a little harder as Rowan undoubtedly messes with the controls to the vibrator. This is nice, he thinks: Rowan rarely shares, and when he does there’s a caveat. But there are things that Rowan doesn’t know, and when Asphodel meets Emil’s eyes the pair of them are locked in that shared secret. Asphodel always looks away first.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.” Emil murmurs, his voice soft even as his hands grip at Asp’s hips. The blond lets himself be manhandled, his palms coming to rest on the wall as Emil settles behind him. He stands there for a moment, appreciating the complete control he has over Asphodel. He could be nice. He could even be kind. But Asphodel is shaking in that little red dress and he’s starting to get hard just thinking about pounding Rowan’s kept boy into the wall.

He decides to be nice, if only because there’s just not enough time. Emil unbuckles his pants, slips his dick out and gives a few pumps while Asphodel arches back, impatient. “Nah-ah, pretty thing. Your owner put that toy in you for a reason. Close your thighs together.”

“Emil,” Asp whines, quiet, and Emil thinks of a few other things he could call him but decides he likes the way Asp drags out the ‘L’. Despite the complaint, Asp shifts so that his thighs are tight together. Emil lifts his dress, just enough to press in close, and without preamble he pushes his cock between Asphodel’s legs.

The friction is rough without lube, but he likes it that way. Asp jerks against him, breath catching on a moan as Emil assumes that Rowan has messed with the vibrator again. He wonders if Rowan has a clear view of them, but Emil knows he’s nearly covering Asp’s body with his own. He sets a harsh pace, noisy in the empty hall but not loud enough to be heard out in the main room. When he glances at the back of Asp’s head he sees the scar, the one Rowan has been biting into his neck for months, and sees the new scabbing on it. With a grunt he slows his pace, and Asphodel hisses in frustration.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen the scar before, but never like _this_. He sees why Rowan does it. Emil grips at Asphodel’s hips, hard enough that Asp whimpers, and fucks at a deliberate pace. His mind wanders—he can’t help it.

He remembers that first year, when Asphodel was like a feral cat chained to the penthouse. Bruised more often than not, wearing Rowan’s dress shirts and glaring from across the study. He remembers dropping by to find Rowan asleep at his desk and Asphodel standing over him, a heavy paperweight in hand. He remembers quietly calling out, remembers how easily Asphodel collapsed into him. A crumpled paper doll, stained purple at the eyes.

He could have let Asp kill Rowan, then. He could have freed the boy, instead. He’s seen this pretty thing break a million times and Emil knows—he is not a good man. He has never been a good man. He stares at the scabbed bite mark on the back of Asphodel’s neck and thinks about biting over it, reinforcing Rowan’s claim and asserting his own. He’s seen the darkest part of Asphodel, one that even Rowan hasn’t. He thinks about that day in the study and the fact that Asphodel has trusted him with this secret; but no, it’s more that Emil forced this secret onto the two of them. He could have told Rowan what happened, those few years ago.

“Emil,” Asphodel calls out, his voice shaky, and Emil grunts as he comes between Asp’s thighs. He does not bite down on the scar.


End file.
